


Closure

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Post-canon Striders [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Earth C (Homestuck), Mention of abuse, Violence Warning, bro is a fucking stalker, my tumblr is knight-of-heart-and-art, nothing graphic tho just dave threatening bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 08:47:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Dave's finally done with letting Bro keep tabs on him. He's willing to do what Bro's been pushing for this whole time: meet him without Dirk or D present.It may or may not be a good idea.Continues what was begun inSplinter.





	Closure

Dirk and D would be losing their shit if they knew what you're doing right now. You're losing your shit a little bit, not that the guy leaning against the wall a couple yards from you can tell. Well, you hope he can't tell. 

You will not appear weak to Bro. You won't show fear. Not at all. There's no reason to be afraid; here and now, you're stronger than he is, you're godtier, he isn't and never will be. You're not thirteen anymore, not terrified and resigned and ready to lose. 

Maybe you're still terrified. 

Why did you decide to tell him yes, you'd meet him? Why didn't you just block the newest number he texted from, why didn't you just ask Hal or Dirk to block that line and maybe follow through on whatever Dirk threatened him with that first time? 

_What the_ fuck _do you think you're doing in this empty alley, Dave?_

Bro smirks at you, just a tiny twist of his lips that you don't have any problem reading. "Something wrong, lil' man?" 

"I've got a name." Don't flinch. Do not flinch. He can't hurt you. There's no way he can hurt you. You have the right to tell him what he can and can't say to you. "Fuckin' use it, or don't bother trying to talk to me." 

Anyone else wouldn't see the lines around his mouth tighten. "You always were a mouthy lil' brat." The words come out deceptively mild, that tone that comes out right before the sword does. "You're the one that called me here. Thought you'd be the one who'd want to talk." 

_Don't let your voice shake. You have a sword, one that won't break; if you have to fight him you'll win. But you don't have to fight. He doesn't have the power to force you into that anymore._

"You know damn well I said I'd meet you because you'd just keep fucking stalking me otherwise, Bro." Steady voice. Good job. "I have one thing to say to you, yeah." 

"Oh?" One blonde eyebrow goes up, and even though he thinks that's going to make you feel like he's calling you an idiot without saying a word, you think about how Dirk does that exact thing every time he's honestly baffled. 

The way the corners of his mouth first flatten out and then turn down as you grin? It's satisfying. Really fucking satisfying. 

"Fuck off." Oh, he didn't expect that. _Anybody_ could see how confused he is, he's not even hiding it now. You'd never have dared to say that to him in any way other than the most joking. "Stop calling me. Stop messaging me through your goddamn proxies, the fake accounts. Fucking stop it. I always know it's you, asshole, I know you better than anybody does—" 

"What if I don't stop?" He cuts you off, and you automatically stop talking and immediately curse yourself for it. "You call your sweet lil' tame version of me? Or the freaky fucked-up one? Set those two on my tail?" Bro smiles, and it's dangerously charming. "The sweet one already proved I don't die here, not on this world. Not from getting my throat cut, anyway." 

So Dirk went after him, at some point. You didn't know that. 

"I don't need them for this, asshole." You can hear the anger in your own voice—Dirk shouldn't have done that. Shouldn't've had to. His head's fucked up enough without killing another splinter of himself. "I'm not a fucking kid anymore. I can take you." 

Bro scoffs and spreads his hands, shaking his head. Then he's just not there, flash-stepping towards you with that damn katana already drawn and ready, and you're—

_Fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK—_

...not there. You see him move, and you grab for the time powers winding through your being. There is some infinitesimal stretch of time where he exists and you don't, and you're not sure how it looks to him but you gasp and blink and uncaptchalogue your sword, spinning and raising it to block any attack he might make from where his first thrust carried him to, since you weren't there to stop him. He's just standing there, though, mouth open a little as he tries to figure out how the fuck he _didn't_ impale you. 

So you do something you've never been able to do, not in all the strifes he's ever forced you into. 

You lunge and you knock that goddamn katana out of his hands. And, miraculously, you don't flinch at the clatter as it hits the concrete. 

_You could hurt him. You could kill him. Right now, you could kill him, and he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it._ The idea is a tempting whisper in the center of your mind, and you give it careful consideration for a full half-second. 

Then you captcha your sword, step forward to pick up his and captcha that too. "You're done," you tell him, and it's not all that hard to look right at him. "You're fucking _done,_ Bro. Contact me again and I'll keep killing you until it takes or I get bored enough to hand you off to someone who's got a longer attention span." 

He's grinning at you, a smile that's all teeth and not even a little unthreatening. "I know how much you hate blood, lil' man. We both know you can't use a blade on me—" 

"Shut up." You don't need gestures to use the time shit. You snap your fingers anyway, as you change how time flows around him to make it faster, make him use up the air in the bubble around him in a matter of seconds. He refuses to gasp and choke and grab at his throat, doesn't move even one little bit, but by the time you snap your fingers again and let time go back to doing what it wants, he's dead white and swaying on his feet, and he gasps for that first breath of air before he catches himself. "Don't fucking need to cut you." 

The look of pure hatred he gives you should make you afraid. It doesn't. 

"Leave me _alone,_ " you tell him. And yeah, turning your back on him is a little dangerous, but fuck it. The worst he can do is kill you, and that'll only last a minute. And he'll regret it so. Fucking. Much. 

He doesn't make a sound as you walk away. 

_He's done. You took whatever power he still had over you away._

_Well done, Dave._


End file.
